


I Design Disasters

by lmharmon (orphan_account)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Established Relationship, Kissing, Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lmharmon
Summary: After James' death, John reflects back on the years they spent together.(The title is a misnomer.)
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	I Design Disasters

**1754**

**Savannah, Province of Georgia**

After the funeral, after James’ casket had been placed in the ground and the hole filled in, after all the other funeral-goers had left, John still stood over James’ gravestone, staring at it. He couldn’t force himself to move. Not yet.

_James  
Flint, formerly McGraw  
died January 27, 1754  
Aged 84 Years  
Why so much grief for me?  
No man will hurl me down to Death,  
against my fate. And fate?  
No one alive has ever escaped it,  
neither brave man nor coward,  
I tell you - it’s born with us the day that  
we are born_

The motif ornamenting the gravestone was the skeleton holding a sword and an hour-glass that James had used as his flag when he’d been Captain Flint. Adding that had been John’s idea. The Iliad quote had been James’.

“Why so much grief for you?” John muttered. 

To the left of James’ grave was Thomas Hamilton’s. He’d passed the year before after a brief illness. James had been devastated. It probably hadn’t helped his own health. 

James, in his typical unconventional fashion, had spent the last years of his life in relationships with both Thomas and John, Thomas for thirty-seven, John for twenty-eight. 

They had lived on the former Oglethorpe plantation, renamed the Isle of Hope after it had been taken over by it’s prisoners shortly after James’ arrival. It had been made into a fortified town, a safe haven for criminals, escaped slaves, and others who wished to - or had to - live outside of the mainstream of society. After thirty-eight years, it still stood, despite British rule officially having arrived in Georgia in 1733. 

John often envied Thomas the extra years he had with James, the years that John had spent believing James was dead.  
  
After the events of Skeleton Island, John had gone on to captain a pirate ship with Tom Morgan as his quartermaster, Ben Gunn as his bosun, and Israel Hands as his advisor. Three years into this arrangement, John had, guilt-ridden, given Morgan, Gunn, and Hands a small ship and crew to go back to Savannah and get James and Thomas Hamilton out of the plantation, unaware that they already ran the place and didn’t need John’s help. But that was not the information his partners had come back with - when they’d returned they’d said that both James and Thomas had died in a yellow fever outbreak. They’d thought John would be better off believing this. It wasn’t until seven years later, when John had spoken to Madi, who had been in contact with James all that time, that he’d realized he’d been lied to. John had returned to Savannah almost immediately after, and remained there ever since. 

John heard a rustling in the grass behind him. He turned. Kitt, James and Thomas’ adopted daughter, had returned to the cemetery, probably to make sure John hadn’t frozen to death in the unusually chilly Georgia air. 

Kitt came up and stood next to John, joined him in looking down at the grave. John looked at her. John had lost his lover, but she had lost both of her parents, only a year apart. He reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. 

“How the fuck did we get so old?” John asked. When John had arrived in Savannah, Kitt had been a bright-eyed teenager. Now, she was in her forties. John was almost seventy. 

Kitt laughed. “Speak for yourself.” 

John chuckled, too. Then he became more serious. “When I die, you’ll make sure I’m buried next to James?”

Kitt squeezed his hand back. “Where else?”

“Thank you,” John said. 

“Do you remember what I told you?” Kitt asked. “When we first met?”

“Hmm?”

“I think you were getting cold feet about seeing James again. You said you didn’t want to cause any trouble, and I said something to the effect of ‘you’re not trouble, you’re family’,” Kitt said. “Well, that’s still true. Don’t go and just sit alone in your house for the rest of your days. You’re always welcome with Nila and I.” 

“I appreciate that,” John said, though he suspected Kitt would inevitably not give him much choice in the matter. 

Kitt pulled her coat tightly around her and turned back toward the town, indicating she was ready to go. “Do you want me to walk you back?”

John shook his head. “I’m going to stay a bit longer.” 

Kitt looked for a moment like she might argue with him, but then simply nodded. “Okay. Don’t be too long, though. It’s getting cold - colder,” she said. She reached up and kissed John on the cheek, then left. 

Once Kitt was out of sight, back inside the town, John, despite protests from his knee, eased himself to the ground, leaning against James’ gravestone. 

“I wish we’d had more time together,” John said to it, to James. “Twenty-eight years seems like it should’ve been enough, doesn’t it? But I’m a selfish bastard, you know that.” 

John was silent for a while. 

“I never really put much thought into whether that was an afterlife or not. But now... I think there must be one. It doesn’t seem like... it doesn’t feel like I’m never going to see you again,” he continued. 

“I told you about my bastard of a father, how he blamed me for my mother’s death. He used to say that I cursed their family, that somehow I designed disasters, caused all the trouble that happened to them. For a long time, I believed that. That everything that went wrong around me was because of me. But the last twenty-eight years with you weren’t disasters. They were blessings. For what, I don’t know. We didn’t exactly do anything to deserve it. But I’m not going to question it.”

John smiled. “Remember when...”

\---

**1726**

James had his fingers in John’s ass. John was lying on his back with James sitting between his thighs.

“I want you to fuck me,” John growled.

James smirked. “Technically, I am fucking you.” 

John reached for James’ cock. “You know what I mean.”

James leaned forward and kissed John. “I just want to make sure you’re prepared. You haven’t done this before.” 

“How much more prepared do I need to be? _Fuck me_ ,” John begged. 

“Are you sure?” James asked, half teasing. 

John squeezed James’ cock. “ _Yes_.” 

James moaned. “Alright,” he said. He withdrew his fingers and reached for the bottle of oil beside the bed. He coated his cock with it, then massaged some into John’s ass. He slowly pressed the head of his cock into John. 

John gasped. 

James stopped moving. “Is this okay?”

John took a deep breath, nodded. “Yes... I understand the fingers now.” 

James smiled. “We’ll take it as slow as you need,” he said. He pushed forward, pressing a little deeper, and stopped again, giving John time to adjust.

John groaned and threw his head back into the pillow. It was still somewhat uncomfortable, but mostly it felt _good_. 

James took hold of John by the hips and thrust again. When all of him was inside John, he stopped once more. “Still okay?” 

“Fantastic,” John breathed. 

“Are you ready for me to move?” James asked. 

John licked his lips. “Please do.” 

James slowly drew back and pushed back in. John cried out. James wrapped a hand around John’s cock and began stroking it as he continued to move inside of him. 

“Faster,” John pleaded. 

James obliged. He picked up the pace, then bent forward to kiss John, driving himself deeper, making John gasp into his mouth. 

Their bodies began moving in a steady rhythm, with John rolling his hips in time with James’ thrusts. 

After a while, James’ breath hitched. “I’m close,” he panted. He began to pull out. 

John immediately wrapped his good leg around John, keeping him in place. “I want you to come inside me.” 

“Are you sure?” James asked, biting back a moan. 

John pulled his leg tighter around James in response. 

It only took a few more thrusts before James spilled himself inside John with a loud groan, dissolving into pleasure. John could feel it pulsing inside of him. 

James’ hips began thrusting more slowly, but his hand on John’s cock kept at the same fast pace as before. John clung to him, raking his nails across James’ back as he felt his own orgasm coming. 

“James-” Before John could say anymore, he came over James’ hand and stomach, hips moving frantically.

Breathing heavy, they continued kissing as they rolled through the aftershocks together. 

“Does it always feel that good?” John asked once he’d caught his breath. 

James grinned. “If it’s with someone who loves you, yes, it should.” 

It did always feel that good.

\---

**1734**

James was sitting at the table reading a book, Gulliver’s Travels. 

John came up behind him and started kissing his neck. “Come to bed,” he purred. 

“When I’m finished reading,” James said, pretending to be annoyed.

With a huff, John disappeared into the bedroom. He reappeared a few minutes later, completely naked. “Are you done reading now?” he asked.

James looked up. John could see the desire in James’ eyes as he took him in. “You know, I think I might be,” he said. He put the book down and followed James into the bedroom. 

\---

**1739**

On a Sunday morning during the summer, James made John get on a horse - despite protests from his joints - and travel about an hour outside the Isle to a large, brilliantly blue lake. After an hour of riding under the hot Georgia sun, the water looked inviting. 

James stripped off his clothes and dove in. John hung reluctantly back at the shore.

“James,” he hissed. “Someone is going to see us. And besides, I don’t want to get my crutch wet.” 

James walked backed to the shore, beads of water dripping off his body and glistening in the sun. At nearly seventy, he still looked good. 

“No one’s going to see us,” James reassured John. “And you don’t need your crutch. I’ve got you.” 

James helped John out of his clothes, then lifted him up and carried him into the water until it was deep enough for him to be able to float. The water was cool on his skin and helped to soothe his aching body. 

They spent the day there, alternating between swimming and lounging on the shore. 

Later, John would say it was almost worth the ride. James, while kissing him, would insist that it was.

They never agreed. 

\---

**1744**

John asked James to try a new recipe he’d been working on, one that he planned on using in the tavern where he worked as the cook - a corn and potato chowder. 

James took a tentative spoonful. John hovered over him. 

“It’s good,” James said.

John narrowed his eyes. “Then why does your face look like that?” 

“Like what?” James asked. 

“Like you want to spit it out!” 

James laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that every time you ask me to try something, I think of that fucking pig-”

John threw his arms out. “That was thirty years ago!”  
  
James pulled John into his lap. “I know, but sometimes it feels like yesterday,” he said, wrapping his arms around John and kissing his face. “It really is good, though.”  
  
John grumbled, “Why do I waste my time-” but let himself be littered with kisses, anyway. 

\---

**1749**

“Are you two sure about this?” Lewis, James’ once-apprentice turned associate, asked. 

“Are we sure about this?” John asked James. 

When John had first arrived in Savannah, he kept returning to James’ carpentry shop every day to see him, so James made him into a pseudo-apprentice, an addition to his actual apprentice, Lewis. The three of them eventually ran the shop together. 

Now, the two older men were turning the business over to their younger colleague. 

“Yes, we should have retired from this a long time ago,” James said. “I do have one request, though.” 

“Anything,” Lewis said.

“Will you keep the name?” James asked. He gestured at the sign above the shop. Flint & Silver Woodworks.

Lewis smiled. “Of course.”

\---

**1754 (Earlier)**

James was lying in their bed, sleeping. After Thomas had passed, he’d moved in with John, making it easier for John to take care of him. 

Over the last few years, even before Thomas had gotten sick, James had developed difficulty breathing and gotten increasingly weaker. His once broad frame had become gaunt. 

In the last few weeks, James had barely been out of bed at all. When he had been, it was always with John’s help, which was tricky, given John’s own mobility issues. He’d wanted to take care of James on his own, but he’d eventually had to admit that he needed help. Kitt, Nila, and Lewis had immediately stepped in, setting up a schedule so that one of them was there at all times. 

But after a physician had been by earlier in the morning and said that James likely didn’t have much time left, John had asked Kitt if he could have some time alone with James. Kitt had said her own goodbyes and left. 

John was sitting in a chair by the bedside, quietly crying. He didn’t notice when James woke up and, seeing John crying, reached for John’s hand. “It’s going to be alright,” he rasped.

John brought James’ hand to his lips. “What am I supposed to do without you?” 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something,” James said. He managed to wink. 

John laughed through his tears. “I don’t know what that means.” 

James laughed, too. “Me either,” he said. Then he became more serious. “Did you have the stonemason work on my stone?”

Under other circumstances, John would have rolled his eyes. “Yes, they were thrilled by the length of your Homer quote. They would have preferred a short bible passage, as is the norm.” Only James would be so particular about his own damn grave. 

James ignored John’s cheek. “Did you decide on a motif?”

John hesitated. “The skeleton... from your pirate flag.” 

James smiled. “I like that.”

“Good. Because at this point, I don’t think they’re accepting any changes,” John winced, thinking about what that meant. 

James wiped away John’s tears with his thumb, then cupped his cheek. “You are the love of my life, you know,” he said softly. 

John shook his head. “You don’t need to-”

“I love Thomas. Of course, I love Thomas. But you... oh, God, how I’ve loved you. I’m so glad you found your way back to me,” James said. John could tell he was fighting to keep his eyes open. 

John leaned forward and pressed his forehead to James’. “I love you,” he whispered. 

James moved his hand to John’s hip and gave it a squeeze. “I love you, too.” 

James drifted back to sleep. He did not wake up again. 

\---

**1754 (Present)**

John finally came back to himself. The sun was starting to go down, and it was, indeed, getting colder. The fresh tears on his face bit at his skin. 

With much difficulty - making him grateful that no one living was around to see him - John made his way to a standing position. His gaze lingered on the gravestone before him for a few more minutes before he finally turned and made his way back to his house - the one James had built for him all those years ago. 

At the edge of the cemetery, he turned back to the gravestone one last time. “Goodnight, James,” he said. “Tell everyone ‘hello’ for me.”


End file.
